


blessing

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BoM Shiro, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Keith can't stop thinking about how big Shiro is while he gets (REDACTED), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, or more accurately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: There is something gratuitous in being manhandled by one of the bigger Blades in a way that’s consuming like no other. Keith refuses to show vulnerability like this with anyone else, because no one else can ever make him feel like this is a strength, not the way that Shiro does.





	blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [Jotakorium's](https://twitter.com/Jotakorium/status/1076025269658370048) Galra!Shiro AU. I know it's not that fucky but as soon as I saw the drawings I knew I just wanted them to boOoO°oO°ne also size difference is such a foundational kink for me...

He knows he can give Shiro more than a run for his money in combat— and they've tested this, many times. Shiro’s the only Galra Keith’s met that credits Keith for his fighting skills, and not half his heritage.  But there is something gratuitous in being manhandled by one of the bigger Blades in a way that’s consuming like no other. Keith refuses to show vulnerability like this with anyone else, because no one else can ever make him feel like this is a strength. Not the way that Shiro does.

“Still with me?” Shiro half-groans into the crook of his neck, and Keith makes a noise in response. He thinks. It chokes out into a cry when Shiro cants his hips up again, shifting Keith up the wall. Shiro’s ears twitch, pressing back as he thrusts into Keith.

They've barely made it past the door into the spartan guest quarters the Blades keeps for visitors, and all the pieces of Keith's upper body armour lay scattered on the floor. He's thankful for the Altean engineering that ensures that the body suits stretch as much as they need to, because the thought of having to explain to his teammates why his suits torn makes Keith cringe.

Keith clings onto Shiro's shoulders, tries to wrap a hand around as much of his thick neck as he can. Shiro's only sliding in half way through before he pulls out, half out of being careful and half because they were both so overcome with the need to have each other after a Galra skirmish that they're just trying to desperately take what they can. Keith has plans to get Shiro to give him more, even though he feels incredibly full right now.

Keith has to reach between them to squeeze himself at the base, cutting himself off from reaching a premature end. It's always a task, because Shiro's large and handsome and fucks Keith like it's his life calling, all while calling him a sweet thing. _His_ sweet thing.

“Shiro- _oh_ ,” Keith grunts and Shiro thrusts up particularly hard at the sound of his name. It's still too controlled for the situation, and he only gets Shiro partially. Keith's head tips back and meets air, and he distantly registers that Shiro isn't even using the wall as support anymore. Keith's a ragdoll in his arms, but Shiro isn't taking advantage of it so he pleads again. “Shiro, more—”

“Look at me,” Shiro orders, the timbre of his voice making Keith go light-headed. When Keith obeys, Shiro silences him with a rough kiss and _still_ doesn't fuck into him all the way like that he wants.

Keith knows he's not the only one who wants this, but he can't tell if Shiro's feeling conscious about his size or just teasing Keith. He suspects it's the second, because Shiro had been the one to drag Keith away immediately after their skirmish with a rogue Galra cruiser. They brush with death often, being the people that they are. Today, however,  Shiro and Ulaz called it _very_ close and almost met God. It had left Shiro desperate and needing to turn Keith desperate and needy. Keith has no complaints, not when it's clear adrenaline is still rushing through Shiro as he kisses him.

Shiro had practically tore off his chest plate as he had herded them into the room, not even bothering with the armour on his legs before he started to go at him. Shiro still has the lower half of his own Blades armour on, and his body suit falls to the side, revealing his broad and scarred chest. It makes Keith dizzy sometimes thinking about how big Shiro is, how he's a sharp mind in a powerful body that moves with a precise type of brutality.

“Tell me what you want,” Shiro says into his mouth, barely any strain evident in his voice. In contrast, Keith’s is hoarse, first from having Shiro large and demanding down his throat, then from the sounds Shiro has been drawing out from him since he hauled Keith up against the wall beside the door and told him to hold on.

“I already told you,” Keith knows there’s the barest hint of rudeness in his voice. He knows he can do better, so he makes sure he sounds even more irritated with what he says next. “I want you to fuck me properly.”

The words, to his credit, do a great job of sounding like Shiro hasn’t already been breaking Keith apart into pieces from the moment he laid his hands on him. Shiro likes it, likes when Keith gets demanding, likes Keith sounding entitled to Shiro’s time, likes looking like it picks at him. He slows to a halt and draws back with a stormy expression that tells Keith he’s going to get what he wants.

“What are you saying about the way I’m fucking you now?” he says, voice low with a warning. Keith drinks it in, tries not to shudder as he levels Shiro with a glare.

“That I know you can give me more,” Keith says, and he feels more than hears the vibrations of the animalistic sound Shiro makes.

The room’s not big so Shiro only needs to step back and take a few strides before he’s closed the distance he needs. Shiro dumps him unceremoniously onto the bed, Keith bouncing with the force. He sees contemplation flash briefly across Shiro's face before he shoves a hand under Keith. He doesn’t give Keith a chance to catch up and follow him; Shiro flips Keith over hard, his strength leaking out in the action as he pins Keith to the mattress. Keith’s body suit stretches further as he makes a pleased noise and arches his back.

He doesn't even have to look over his shoulder to shoot a look before he feels a large palm push the back of his thigh. Fingers curl around the muscle of his leg as he pushes Keith, spreading Keith further.

There's a soft click of a cap and Keith feels something cool trickle between his legs. He squirms, too impatient, thinking that Shiro will make him reach back and touch himself to assure Shiro that he's still slick and loose and wanting because Shiro likes to watch as much as he likes to take. But the command never comes. Instead, Shiro leans over him to grab a pillow and shove it under his hips before slotting his hands in the junctions of Keith's thighs.

As Shiro starts to press the head in, Keith has a moment where he imagines the sight, of Shiro's grip on his body, so different in size that his thumbs touch comfortably. Shiro teases, barely moving, and Keith tries to push back on him until he’s stopped with a squeeze.

“Patience,” Shiro says and Keith snorts, a petulant sound that has Shiro pausing.

For a moment, Keith thinks that Shiro’s going to maybe gag him with his fingers to shut him up, that he’s going to pull Keith up by the hair and tell him to _behave_ or else. He welcomes both, but neither happen. Instead, he finds his world spinning as Shiro quickly withdraws and hauls him up.

Before Keith can register what’s happening, Shiro’s turning him in his lap and flopping back on the bed,dwarfing the mattress in his wake. He holds Keith up from where he’s half-sitting on Shiro’s waist, and uses one hand to pry off the leg plates of Keith’s armour. They fall to the side with a loud _thunk,_  and after a great deal of jostling, one of Keith’s legs have been freed so that he can fully straddle Shiro.  Keith’s about to ask what Shiro’s planning to do but Shiro manhandles him a little more till he’s positioned above him and Keith knows he’s going to get his answer soon.

The breath gets punched out of Keith as Shiro starts to sit him down fast, wicked grin on his face as Keith’s mouth drops in a strangled cry. Keith quickly scrabbles, trying to plant his hands on Shiro’s chest and by the time he’s found purchase on the hard muscle, Shiro is fully seated in him.

“Better, baby?” Shiro says, voice dark and sarcastic around the pet name. Keith doesn’t know what kind of sound he makes, but it elicits a short laugh from Shiro. “Yeah, thought so.”

The first time they had done this, Keith had found his limit. It was on his back, skin flushed red with how hard he was burning as Shiro looked down in concern as Keith tried to pretend he wasn't squirming in pain. But Keith had known what he was getting into from the moment they shared their first kiss, something soft and chaste in the medical bay post-battle, so he had gritted his teeth till Shiro found a way to make Keith moan.

They learned from it, thoroughly and repeatedly till Keith discovered a new limit, discovered where being half Galra helped. Shiro had been incredibly gentle with Keith until they found a way for him to not be, and _that_ had been an experience that had unraveled Keith’s universe.

“This way, if I’m not fucking you the way you like,” Shiro says, lifting Keith up. The drag is more delicious this way, and Keith’s engulfed with the heady desire. “You can do something about it.”

They both know that Keith can’t, not this time anyways. It’s not that Shiro doesn’t like to lay back and watch Keith work himself into a sweaty mess on top of Shiro with the same determination he brings to every other aspect of his life. He just likes giving Keith as tough a time as Keith gives him in.

Shiro lets him breathe for one brief second before he moves. He gives Keith a grin right before he snaps his hips up and he yanks Keith down. The act doesn’t fail to tear a loud cry from Keith’s throat, and Shiro makes no effort to hide how smug he looks.

In this position, Shiro feels bigger in all ways and Keith feels like he’s a cup, brimming and on the verge of overflowing. Shiro does it again and again, sending stars through Keith’s vision as he drives up into him repeatedly. Keith can’t do anything but grasp onto Shiro’s forearms and hang his head between his shoulders as Shiro uses him, making sure he’s fucking fully into Keith the way that Keith had been demanding. Shiro’s hold on him is iron, and Keith tries to look at him through his bangs but it's a hard task keeping his eyes from rolling back in his head.

“Keith— _fuck,_ look at me, “ this time the command has the slightest hint of strain in it, and Keith immediately obeys. “Good, I want to see you, you look so hot—”

Keith drinks in the praise, catches it like manna and treasures it, hands growing tighter around Shiro's large wrists. His fingers leave dark purple bruises on Shiro's wrists and Keith thinks _good_ , because he likes seeing Shiro rub at the marks Keith leaves him with under his clothes absentmindedly during meetings.

“Do I feel good?” It's less a question and more Keith  begging for more, and only Shiro gets this from Keith, only Shiro will ever get it. “Am I good for you?”

The way Shiro surges up to kiss him gives him affirmation and he keeps on moving the two of them, bringing Keith down on him as he bucks up. Keith slings an arm around Shiro's shoulder and braces, thinking Shiro will put him on his back again, but Shiro buries his face in Keith's neck and continues to move them. Shiro's carrying more weight this way, but Shiro likes to show his strength and Keith likes it when he's treated like he weighs nothing.

Keith  reaches between himself to stroke and Shiro picks up the pace in return. Keith's  on the precipice of dissolving, shooting towards his upper limit as the hand he has around himself goes erratic. Shiro moves fast and controlled, but he's got a dark flush that crawls from his face so Keith makes sure Shiro's name spills from his mouth in a broken wail, over and over till Shiro loses that control.

Keith's head is swimming from how thoroughly Shiro's working him, from the way he's pressing sloppy wet kisses against Keith's neck and sucking in marks. Keith wants him to bite down, wants Shiro to awaken _that_ side of himself, but he's so close now that he can't collect enough of himself to goad Shiro into it.

Instead he clings and jerks himself off till he's coming, unable to hold back on a strangled yell. His legs shake and he curls into himself as he makes a mess between them. Shiro follows him shortly after, Keith's name on his lips as he finishes inside of him, filling him up. Shiro’s breathing goes ragged as Keith slumps forward. Shiro skates a hand over the length of Keith’s of spine, and inhales deeply.

It feels weird and slightly uncomfortable every time Shiro slips out of him, but Keith welcomes the ache. Shiro lays him down with care, and Keith groans with the effort of staying conscious.

Everything starts to hit him, one after the other; the adrenaline that had come with the emergency signal blaring across the Blades headquarters, the skirmish with a vicious Galra cruiser, the heart attack he had suffered in the few moments he thought he had lost Shiro and the fury that followed after. And then there's the ache in his body, the one that's so familiar and so welcome every time they have a post-battle reunion.

Keith is too blissed out and doesn’t notice Shiro leave till he's returning, small wet towel in hand. He takes great care in cleaning Keith up, wiping his stomach and his hands clean, pointedly avoiding the space between his legs. Keith knows Shiro's saving that for the shower he's going to eventually drag them into. Keith's sure that there, they're going to find battle wounds and bruises they didn't notice in their haze of lust and from there it'll be a competition to see who will be able to goad the other to take a stint in one of the healing pods.

His heart swells up at the small pinch between Shiro's brows as he runs a towel over the claw marks and fingerprints littering Keith's skin, and he knows Shiro's going to silently reprimand himself for not being as careful with his partner as he should be. So Keith sits up, and before Shiro can ask him what he's doing, he's pulling Shiro into a kiss. This one is more leisurely, and it helps them both come down from the high. Shiro holds onto Keith's bicep tightly like a lifeline, and Keith teaches up to scratch behind his ears.

The responding purr and hum of satisfaction pleases Keith, and he starts to smile into the kiss. They continue for a few moments before Shiro wrinkles his nose and pulls back, and Keith can see that he's finally grounded again.

“We need to shower,” Shiro says, and tugs at Keith's bodysuit. “And probably clean these.”

“I'm tired,” Keith half-protests, but he knows they should clean up so that the rest of the room doesn't stink. Even though they both know Shiro will eventually herd them both to his quarters, and the room laid aside for the red paladin will sit unused.

“You stink,” Shiro counters, and Keith musters up the remainder of his energy to look as put out as possible.

“Is that how you talk to your sweet thing?” he says as petulantly as he can, and Shiro stares at him for a moment before he bursts out laughing, cheeks dusting darker and his blush standing out against his Galra markings.

Keith half heartedly thumps him on the shoulder, but can't help his own smile from cracking. Shiro sweeps him up into a hug that's crushing and makes Keith aware for the millionth time, their disparity in size. Shiro's arms envelop him in the most comforting way; Keith buries his face in Shiro's chest and inhales, taking in the dried sweat and adrenaline and all. He makes it noisy, exaggerating deep breaths till Shiro’s squirming and trying to push him off.

“You'll find I'm a lot more accepting than you are,” Keith says, voice muffled against Shiro's significantly muscular chest. He feels the vibrations and rumbles of Shiro's laugh, and the press of lips on top of his head.

“Thank you,” Shiro says into Keith's damp hair. Keith tips his head back to look at him, and it's enough to know that it's genuine, that Shiro's not being sarcastic.

Eventually, Keith’s going to have to school his face back into something stoic before he faces the others and pointedly ignore any questions as to what was so important that he had left the post-mortem for the mission early. For now, he just lets out a content sigh before trying to paw at Shiro again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The answer to the unspoken question is woobley galra physiology and healing pods... Always the healing pods 😔👊
> 
>  
> 
> Come hang out with me on [ tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tagteamme) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/phaltu)!!


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